Always Do
by i'llbeyourcoat
Summary: Written for the URF's September Writing Challenge. Angel/Collins fluff. yum...fluff


Wow, I never realized how hard it is to write fluff...or maybe I just like writing big dramatic things better. Anyway, written as a submission for the URF's September Challenge.

If I owned RENT than this wouldn't be fanfiction, now would it?

_"Super trouper beams are gonna blind me, But I wont feel blue, Like I always do, 'cause somewhere in the crowd there's you" - _Super Trouper, ABBA

* * *

"How do I look?" Angel spun out their room; she had taken long enough too. She was done up in a white knee length skirt and tight white long sleeved T-shirt. Pale pink tights were barley visible between the hem of her skirt and the tops of her soft brown boots. Her black bob wig crowned her head, framing her face. Two sparkly wings of color sat under her eyebrows and her lips were shiny wet with lip-gloss. Collins smiled up at her from his seat on the couch, his chest felt unnaturally tight.

"Like you always do," He said. She paused, smiling too, waiting for him to finish the sentence. She had decided that tonight was going to be special. She didn't really have a reason; it was more that even if it wasn't a holiday it was fun to treat it like it was. She'd watched him cook dinner (she was forbidden from ever going near the kitchen after she'd very nearly poisoned them both with that one dinner) and they'd gone to St. Mark's Place together to get those candles that smelled nice. They always disagreed on what scent to buy - he wanted cinnamon buns, while she wanted the lilac - so they always ended up buying more than they needed. They hadn't dared get anything else besides the food; even if it's a holiday it sucks to be cold because you couldn't pay the heat bill. It had been Collins' idea to dress up. she would have anyway, but it felt nice to hear it from him, to hear that he liked it. She put her hands on her hips, waiting, but apparently he was done talking. For a moment panic contracted her chest. What did he mean 'like you always do'? She narrowed her eyes at him, searching for some unsaid insult that might be lurking behind that smile…that gorgeous, heart-breaking smile. She stared, and then laughed, finally getting it.

"You are terrible Collins!" She told him, giggling. "Such a hopeless romantic!"

"But it's true," He said, slipping off the couch and coming up behind her in one smooth movement, encircling her with his arms. He squeezed gently making her yelp as he nearly lifted her off the ground, nuzzling her neck like an affectionate cat. "You are _always _a million times more stunningly, dazzlingly, ravishingly beautiful than gorgeous."

"Then that would make you," She said, the laughter still in her voice as she twisted so that she was facing him. "A million times more wonderfully, breathtakingly, exquisitely handsome than sexy." They smiled at each other for a moment, foreheads pressed together.

"Come on," He said finally, pulling her into the kitchen, sliding in his socks and nearly tripping over the hem of his pants. It surprised him that the only pair of slacks he owned was too big, because all of his other pants came down to just above his ankles. Angel liked to tease him for it, both his height and his pants, saying he was like a stork – tall, with all elbows and knees. And ankles, she always added, laughing. She steadied him, and made for the food but he caught her wrist.

"Uh uh," He told her. "I'm serving you tonight." Angel rolled her eyes at him, but sat at the folding card table they used. They'd covered if with lacey curtains, trimmed and hemmed into the right shape, to help hide the hinges. She put her elbows on the table, folded her fingers, and rested her chin on them while watching him with a vacant smile. He fumbled self-consciously with the mismatched dishes, setting a bowl first before her then before himself. He slipped on the oven mitt, pale green with a pink flower, and grabbed the handle of the large pot on the stove. He brought it over and poured some spaghetti into Angel's bowl with a wooden serving spoon.

"Thanks," He just smiled. She got up though before he could stop her, and darted to the silverware drawer to get forks.

"Hey! I was serving you!" He cried indignantly. She laughed and stuck her tongue out at him, twirling briefly around the kitchen with the forks held high above her head. He put the pot down and caught her around the waist. She continued to swish her hips, though she could no longer spin. He grinned and gently pried the forks from her fingers and set them on the table so he could take her hands. They swayed a little, one of her hands on his shoulder and one of his on her waist and the others clasped together, by taking two steps to the left, then two to the right. That was all there was room for. But then she giggled and they broke apart to take their seats. She smoothed her skirt over her knees and picked up her fork.

"Oh duh!" Collins said suddenly, getting back up and dashing to the refrigerator. He returned a moment later with a small bowl of green sauce. "Forgot the pesto." She snorted and spooned a generous amount onto her pasta. He went a little easier on the pesto. He twirled his fork in it before placing it in his mouth. Angel, though, decided to slurp hers. It was good; the pesto was cool and basil-y and crisp. They smiled at each other between bites.

"Wait," She said. "You've got some in your teeth." He ran his tongue over them, a little embarrassed.

"Did I get it?"

"No, it's right…" She crept out of her seat and around to where he was. She put her hands on his shoulders and they tingled under her touch. He lifted his face up to receive her kiss. Her mouth was warm and soft and tasted a little like the lip-gloss she was wearing. He could feel her tongue run along his teeth.

"There." She pulled back, smiling. "Got it." His head spun and he could feel his heart going a million miles an hour. She sat back down while he stared at her.

"I love you," He'd never get used to how that felt to say. "Like I always do." She beamed.

"_I_ love _you,_" He'd never get used to hearing it either. He'd never get used to it, no matter how many times it was said, it would always make him feel…lighter, but heavier, more grounded, but more free…it always kept him in love.


End file.
